Casus Belli
by Bellethiel Merilwen
Summary: A sequel to Tainted With Memories And Scars. Legolas Greenleaf has found his love, his goddess, but her ghosts gain on her and her past discovers her in the form of an Angel. The lover scorned always returns.
1. The Dreams Of Trees Unfold

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm sure you understand the drill by now. I own nothing but the characters you don't freakin' recognize.

**SUMMARY:** Legolas Greenleaf has found his love, his goddess, but on the eve of their departure to Mirkwood, her past discovers her in the form of an Angel. The lover scorned always returns.

**Rating:** M for violence/gore/sexual situations

**A Brief Note:** This story is a sequel to my first Tainted with Memories and Scars. I strongly suggest you read this, as you may get lost in this story otherwise.

**What to Expect: **

Violence and gore and sex.

Confusing plotlines and odd flashbacks.

Original characters of strange and frightening behaviors.

Legomance…Mary Sue…whatever you wish to call it.

No more notes from me, this is the only time I will ever address you the reader in my story. Except at the end, where I will publicly thank all reviewers. I hope none of you are too put off by this and I appreciate any suggestions or critic you plan to give.

**Casus Belli – A Latin expression meaning the justification for acts war. **

OoOoOoOoOo

Their bodies entwined, her legs tangled with his, and her body laid next to him. Pale skin almost glowed in the afternoon sun, setting her raven hair aflame in blue. Her lashes were not exception to this, and as Legolas Greenleaf stared at his lover's sleeping face, he could almost clearly imagine her as an Angel, stares lining the emerald irises. Part of him wished she would open her eyes, so he could be lost in that sea of green. The other part of him, the reasonable part, told him to wait and enjoy this peace for now. She needed rest. For many weeks, she did nothing but sleep, eat, and make love to him. When he confessed some confusion to her actions, she answered him simply:

"_I can sleep with you here_," she had mumbled into the bare skin of his chest, "_and be undaunted by night terrors_."

Occasionally, he asked her about these dreams, these "night terrors," as she called them. In response, she would only smile and direct his attention elsewhere, normally to the bed, where they would spend hours memorizing the curves of each other's bodies. The places that made each other moan and gasp were open territory and, in just a few weeks time, no longer a mystery. And each time before the anticipated connection, prior to the threat of climax, and during the art of foreplay, she told him a tale of a scar. So far, he estimated, he knew at least thirty of the hundreds etched into her back. The ink she had kept silent about. But today was the day, she promised him the night before.

She sighed in her sleep, and against his bare chest, her eyelids fluttered. Something in his stomach tightened, excited by even the simplest of movements from her. Patiently, breathlessly, he waited for her to wake. He studied her expression of utter peace before the smooth lids receded. Wordlessly, she began to kiss his torso, giggling girlishly as she heard him try and contain his gasps. She began to hum, and the buzzing of her lips against his abdomen felt almost too much to bear.

"Let me hear your voice," he encouraged her.

Trinity's lips pulled back into a complete smile, one of pure content.

She kissed his neck, singing softly under her breath she did so, "Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves – "

She worked her way down, inch by inch, until her eyes were level with his breast, the place where his heart thumped unsteadily.

"And the dreams of trees unfold."

Gently, she leaned in, biting his nipple just enough to make him groan.

"When Woodland halls are green and cool – "

Moving lower, she sucked tenderly at the sensitive place just above his navel.

"And the wind is in the west."

He tried not to shudder as he gripped her upper arms, leading her mouth to his. Playfully, she resisted his kiss, and instead moved her teeth and tongue to the tip of his ear.

"Come back to me."

His hands moved up her back, feeling the scars' texture and he struggled against the growing arousal.

"Come back to me," she whispered hotly in his ear.

She settled herself on his lap, running her fingers through his hair. Teasingly, her sweet mouth moved towards his, hesitating until he thought he would drown with his need for her.

"And say my land is best."

Her mouth claimed his in conclusion, and as their tongues battled for dominance, he found himself wondering how she did this almost every morning for the past five weeks. How did she entice him so quickly? How could the feel of her grinding her hips into his feel so right? Her hands began to move dangerously low, over his chest and stomach, closer and closer to the harden organ between his thighs. He bit down on her tongue lightly, and felt her tremble in his arms, a small reminder that this was a day for answers. Then, later, lovemaking.

He drew their mouths apart, though his hands refused to leave her body, "Remember what you promised, meleth."

His voice was a growl.

"I remember, Princeling."

Ceremoniously, she laid on her belly beside him, and he smoothed her long raven hair away. Legolas brushed the tips of his fingers over the ink, tracing the perfect shape of the wing by her right shoulder.

"Where did you get this?" he breathed, cerulean eyes mesmerized by the very sight.

Though he could not see it, he knew she smiled gravely.

"I told you of Thaniel," she began softly, "How he was an Angel, and how he mapped out eternity for us. After my death, I became one of them. I lived in the clouds, I had a lover, and I had wings."

He moved his sweet touch to the other wing.

"But I could not be holy…I could not be selfless and pure."

Dipping his head down, Legolas kissed the place between her shoulder blades. His hands moved over the skin, kneading.

"I killed another Angel."

The heated movement of his palms on her back halted and his breath caught.

"And for that I was exiled. Given a punishment worse than death, worse than simply ceasing to exist."

His mind whirled at the new fact.

"They made me immortal, and sent me on my merry way."

Frowning, he looked up to see her hands clutching the pillow, her knuckles white.

"They ripped my wings off my back with their bare hands."

With a creased brow, he touched the ink again. Sure enough, he could feel the crude rise in her skin underneath. The ink hid it well.

"When I was convicted of heresy, and sentenced to life in exile, they gave me this as a reminder."

His hand traveled down.

"These markings are the sign of the Fallen."

He walked his fingers along the length of her spine, "How is such a thing done?"

She did not answer at first, and when she finally did, her voice sounded strained.

"They drugged me. Tied me down."

Anger built up inside him.

"And then they took a needle and ink. Dipped the tip, put it in the fire…and burned this into my flesh."

He flinched against the white hot rage.

"Amarth faeg," he muttered under his breath, kissing the past wounds, the scars beneath the markings.

Abruptly, she turned over, and looked at him with hardened eyes. Before she could speak, he pressed him mouth to hers, sucking and biting at her upper lip. She moaned, her fingers curling in his hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Valar, how he adored this creature, this beauty. He took pride in her every cry, when she gasped his name. And at her climax, she shrieked her profession of love before slipping back into her sleeping state.

Afterwards, he watched her, the slight sheen of sweat on her skin, the light of her face. Indulging himself with one last kiss, he pulled himself away.

OoOoOoOoOo

A nightmare stirred in Trinity's bones, making her toss in her sleep. The visions, the feelings gripped her, swallowed her. Even the soft voice of Evalgine in the back of her mind could not shake her. Flashes of pain, sorrow, blood, hate, love, revenges, were all too clear. As it neared its peak, she woke with a scream in her throat. Her eyes studied her surroundings, and it took her several moments to stop her spasms.

_**Valar, Trinitas, are you alright? **_

_Yes. _

Even her mind-speech sounded weak. Slowly, she pulled herself into a sitting position, allowing the blanket to fall around her lap. Calm air blew across her bare skin, cooling her thoughts considerably. She glanced down at the empty bed and ran her fingers through her dark hair, thinking of her Elf. Thinking of Legolas' fine blond hair, his cerulean gaze, long fingers, and warrior's build. The strong chest, the taste of him on her tongue.

For the first time in many weeks, she left the warmth and protection of her bed. She planned to take a bath, sink herself into the balmy water, and forget everything, perhaps drown herself for awhile. She frowned suddenly; thinking of the panic Legolas might feel should he find her that way. Lying face down in the water, eyes open and unseeing, she could not do that to him, even if he did know her body would eventually revive. Trinity slipped on the robe, which her lover had thoughtfully placed over the chair next to the bed, and moved to the railing.

Her hands gripped the metal easily and, like a child, she leaned her full weight on it, watching the city of Gondor below her. A soft smile crossed her features as she thought of a distinct remembrance:

"_Soon_," Legolas had whispered in her ear, "_we will depart for Mirkwood, and I will introduce you to my father_."

She had been uneasy with the suggestion, "_Do you think he will like me_?"

"_Meleth, none can resist you_," he laughed.

Her smile faded as something caught her eye.

Evalgine retreated beyond recall, reinforcing their truce.

With shaking fingers, Trinity reached for the object wrapped around the railing. Even after she held the thing in her hand, she could not look at it.

_Ridiculous_, she scolded herself. She was well over a thousand years old, and afraid of a mere necklace?

Finger by finger, she opened her hand, and forced her eyes to stare at the silver chain in her palm. Worse yet, she studied the charm, the dove fashioned there, and the single emerald that marked its eye. As she gritted her teeth against the torrent of memories surrounding her, she understood one thing.

Thaniel knew where she was.

And soon he would come for her.

OoOoOoOoOo

Legolas stood outside the door, listening for a moment, from beyond the wood, beyond the noise of the city, he could hear her breathing. Carefully, he entered the room, being cautious to his surroundings. If she was asleep, he did not wish to wake her. But he found she was not. She was standing, staring out into the distance at the city. Something radiated off her, an emotion he was not entirely familiar with.

"Trinity?"

She was so far away, but there still. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close. But still, he earned no real response.

"Meleth?" trepidation worked itself into his tone.

Her chest was rising and falling. She was breathing and yet dead to him. In her present state, he could not even feel the connection between their minds. He gripped both her arms and spun her around so she faced him. Though her eyes focused on his, he saw little within them.

"Trinity, sweetling, talk to me."

It had been at least a month since her last fit. Gandalf had suspected it was love that healed her, his love for her. Like a fool, Legolas had agreed, but now he saw. It would take more than lovemaking to heal whatever wounds she had sustained.

"I had a night terror."

Her voice startled him out of his thoughts.

He frowned, "How? When?"

"This morning, after you left."

She still had that fathomless expression, but at least she was talking now. He touched her cheek softly and, in response, she gripped the front of his tunic with one hand.

"Then I suppose I shall never leave your side again."

Trinity gave him a ghostly smile, with haunted eyes.

"I love you."

He smiled softly, leaning in to place a sweet kiss on her lips. "And I love you."

He duly noted that her left hand was formed into a tight fist. Hiding something.

OoOoOoOoOo

"What did you see in your night terror?"

What did you see, Trinity? What did you see?

"Things," she replied shortly, her jaw setting.

Immediately, she wished she had not said that, since he looked to her then with such pain in his gaze. Hesitantly, she touched his mouth with her right hand.

"I'm sorry, Legolas."

He kissed her fingers, "I know, love, I know."

She could feel the pressure of his hands on her hips, and for the second time that day, excitement stirred.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her quietly.

She smiled, biting her lip slightly so he understood the feeling without her having to verbalize it. He smirked slightly, and bent his head to suck tenderly at the arc of her collarbone. Trinity let forth a breathy moan, and gently moved her fingers over the tip of his ear. Her actions rewarded her with a gasp.

"Mmm," she murmured; he bit down on her skin lightly, "Princeling, I am just perfect. Awake. Finally."

He nuzzled her neck, placing gentle kisses along the way. "I've missed you."

Her control was rapidly fading at the feel of his mouth and hands on her body. The bell like tone of his voice threatened to pull her apart at the seams. In her left hand, the old lover's token seared her skin like a brand.

"Have I been somewhere?" she asked him, her voice barely above a whisper.

She felt him smile.

"Yes," Legolas said sweetly, "You've been in your dreams, so far from me yet in my bed, in my heart."

He sounded unsure, as though he thought she would not understand.

But she did understand.

She understood far too well.

"I need a bath," she replied with a grimace, avoiding the subject altogether.

OoOoOoOoOo

He sighed, drawing away from her, knowing too well that she would not continue this conversation. He left long enough to locate a servant to assist him, and returned with a young man in tow. Both he and the boy carried two buckets of steaming water. As if completely aware of their return, Trinity opened the door for them and watched as they filled the tub in the adjoined room.

Legolas noted with slight agitation that the boy made frequent glances her way. Trying, he knew, to catch a slip of her robe, a glimpse of forbidden flesh. She seemed completely unaware, and leaned against the doorway, arms folded across her chest, eyes clouded, those slender legs crossed at the ankles. Only after the boy left did he dare touch her, and even then he made sure it was only a slight touch. They hadn't the time to make love again; Aragorn was expecting them.

She sensed his discomfort with ease, "What is it, my love?"

"The boy was watching you."

She chuckled, touching her forehead with one hand and touching his shoulder with the other.

Both hands were empty. Whatever she had been hiding from him was gone, tucked safely away.

"Legolas," she said with a coy smile, "What am I going to do with you?"

He grabbed her wrist, pressing his lips to the pulse point, feeling the delightful throb of life there. Soft and low, steady, not at all nervous, not like him. Each time she looked to him, touched him, it wreaked havoc on his heart. He loved her, wanted her, needed her, but the secrets she kept threatened everything.

"Lock me up, hide me away, it matters not. All I want is to be with you."

Trinity's lips parted, and a look of sorrow eclipsed her features.

"Please, excuse me."

She detached herself from him, dropped the robe, and settled herself in the washtub.

Her frigid formality scorched him from the inside.

OoOoOoOoOo

She felt his fingers skim the flesh of her shoulders, the only part of her body left uncovered. Slowly, he laced up the ties of her corset, and with each tug, she felt the rift grow larger and larger between them. This was better, she told herself. By being with him, loving him, she put him at risk. Gradual dissipation would work; it had worked in the past. If he did not love her, did not care for her, Thaniel might let him live.

_It hurts_.

Legolas moved away and caught her hand in his; leading her out the door, through the halls, until at last they reached the King. Aragorn smiled in greeting, sitting with entwined hands. His exquisite wife, Arwen, stood and greeted them both with a hug and a brief kiss on the cheek.

"It is lovely to see you, Trinity," she said conversationally.

_I hardly know you. _

The entire kingdom, it seemed, was well aware of her near comatose state. To be honest, she fount it rather irritating; nonetheless, she smiled politely. At least they tried to connect. Legolas squeezed her hand gently, no doubt concerned by her lack of response.

Through careful eyes, Aragorn studied the pair, "Yes. Please, sit with us."

He gestured to the chairs beside them.

_Sit, doggie, sit. _

Obediently, they sat. Her first, then Legolas, and he grasped her hand once again. It was an owning gesture, the type which showed clearly that she belong to him. And he belonged to her. They were in _love_.

_I can do this. _

Across from them, Arwen and Aragorn did the same. But they were easy, smiling and laughing freely, occasionally catching each other's eye. So perfect. The idea hit her then that she could have the same with Legolas.

_No. _

"A letter from Elrond arrived a few days ago – "

If it were not for Thaniel, they could be happy.

"Oh! I have not seen him in years – "

They could be married, live together…

"Gorgeous girl, I think she is married now…"

Hold each other without the fear one of them would vanish. Or be stolen away.

"Trinity?"

She blinked to life and watched warily as Arwen studied her with cautious eyes.

"Forgive me, I seem to be a bit hazy this evening."

Arwen laughed softly, reaching with her free hand to pat Trinity's knee, "My dear, I think you have yet to wake up."

Politely, she smiled, and felt Legolas' hand squeeze hers once again. Trying to revive her.

"I think," said Aragorn, "That we shall retire, some of us have yet to rest this evening."

The King and his wife stood, hand in hand, and then walked away. She noted with slight wonder the knowing look Arwen gave her. The sun hid behind the trees, and soon it would disappear beyond recall for the rest of the night.

OoOoOoOoOo

Legolas pulled her against him, mouth working its undeniable skill on her neck. His fingers skimmed the lace of her corset, toying with them. Playfully, he nipped at her skin and smiled as he listened to her soft moans.

"I love you," she gasped, pressing her body against his, "in aeternum."

Briefly, he paused, pulling back to look at her with a creased brow. Since the first time they made love, she had mumbled phrases of strange insignificants. Until that moment, he had thought them only to be signs of pleasure. He understood now, it was a language, a sign of her life before him.

"I have never heard that tongue."

Something sad flashed momentarily in her gaze, "Latin. It is Latin."

"Latin," he breathed, carefully pronouncing the word the way she had (minus, of course, her endearing accent), "and this phrase…'in aeternum,' what does it mean?"

"For eternity."

The frown etched into her features troubled him, and he moved his fingers to the cloth around her neck.

"Did you not mean to say that, meleth?"

His heart felt heavy, almost as though it wanted to stop completely.

"I meant it," she confessed quietly.

With a smiled, he kissed her, over and over until her lips were swollen, then led her to his bed.

OoOoOoOoOo

She cannot move. Her body remains frozen and her mind heavy. Smooth lid rise and fall over green irises, slowly, tiredly, as if the weight of the entire world settles upon them. She wants to crawl back into that dark abyss, into that place of nothingness where she can at least conjure an imaginary Legolas to comfort her. Evalgine is gone and, for the first time in her long existence, Trinity is truly and utterly alone.

_Pathetic_, she scolds herself.

Her instincts are that of pure survival. She can free herself from this. She can win; she just has to focus. As if by show of untainted will, her eyes adjust and the darkness is penetrated by dim candlelight. All she can make out is the stone ceiling overhead, and the faint smell of death. She feels completely disturbed by the fact that no matter how much will she puts into the intended movement, she can not move her head. Her body feels disconnected, inexistent; nothing beside her mind is left.

_Fuck._

Her ears perk, listing intently to her surroundings. This, it seemed, is one of the two senses her body has left. Steady water drips to her right, echoing and amplified by the (metal? stone?). Stone, she decides, since the echo holds no metallic resonance. Coppery blood fills her nostrils, the smell of demise and hate. Footsteps? It sounds so, short and even. A heavy door slides open and the sound enters the room. Calmly, purposefully, they stop near her body. No breath comes from the figure, only a faint musky scent, but she suspects it to be male, based upon the heavy sound of his walking beforehand. Despite it all, she is not afraid.

A pale hand flies into her eyesight, and disappears (over her head?). She wonders if it is sill touching her. Still, she cannot feel her body. She cannot move. A disembodied voice sighs, confirming her former assumption. Whoever this is, he is male. Above her, a dark shadow flickers across the ceiling and she hears the figure move away. Metal clangs and it returns. This time, she sees a face. Angular features, a strong jaw, and a cold smirk mock her.

Fear bursts in her chest.

Because she is staring into the dark, soulless eyes of Thaniel Alexandrescu.

"Good morning, Trinitas," his voice is calm; "I've missed you."

She stares in complete horror and a chuckle bubbles from his heavenly (deadly) lips.

"Are you not pleased to see me?"


	2. Bile And Blood

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm sure you understand the drill by now. I own nothing but the characters you don't freakin' recognize.

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Thaniel leans down, and she is grateful for the inability to feel as his lips brushed against her forehead. Quizzically, she stares at him, wondering why he had not chosen her mouth. As if in answer, he withdraws slightly, enough so she could see his face clearly.

He reads the desperate glint in her eyes, "Almighty, I had forgotten how beautiful your fear could be…"

Again, he bends down and somehow she knows, even without feeling, that he is kissing and biting above the collarbone. His favorite place. The musk radiates off him, swirling mercilessly in her nostrils. Her stomach heaves.

"You know what's happening, Dove."

She knows. She comprehends.

_Succynlcholine. _

"Succynlcholine," he confirms, "a rather strong medication, don't you agree? When injected into the circulatory system, it causes all skeletal muscles to contract, each independently from other muscles within the group. Of course I've mixed this with a generous amount of Propofol to keep you manageable. But worry not, sweet; I have my ways of keeping you reasonably alive."

He taps something with his finger; the noise bounces to her ears. Plastic, the sound of air rushing from it, a ventilator keeps her breathing.

He chuckles fondly at the memory, "I'm no fool, Dove, did you think I would never find you? Did you think I had given up?"

She wishes the medication affected her ears as well.

"No, I'll never give this up, darling Trinitas. We promised eternity, in aeternum, and I think it's best we keep the agreement."

Her eyes water.

"How many times were you meant to die? Four? Five? Yet still you crawled from the grave! And now…here you are, lying before me. So vulnerable and tempting, tears sliding down your cheeks."

He moans, prompting the sick feeling in her stomach to rise again.

"Should I take you now or later?"

_Please don't touch me…_

Another grin pulls at his lips, "Poor little Exile, all alone in the world, without her Elf to protect her."

His eyes slant as he brings the syringe into view. For a moment, it hovers above her, threatening. But then, he lowers it out of sight with a slow shake of the head.

"No," he murmurs, "No, I think I shall wait for a while."

Relief should flood her, but it does not. She knows what comes next.

"I want to hear you beg for mercy."

_Shit. _

"I want you to feel me inside you."

_Legolas…_

"I want you to understand the full meaning of the words 'I own you.' "

_I'm sorry._

OoOoOoOoOo

He watched her hands twist nervously around each other; her teeth devoured her lower lip. Standing in the sun, clad in white and gold, she was a tense vision. The horse beside her whinnied and she absently reached over to stroke it with a shaking hand. He had never seen her so uneasy. Gently, he placed his hands on either side of her face, looking her in the eyes.

"You're trembling," he whispered sweetly.

He was right, she was.

She covered his hands with hers, smiling reassuringly, "I am only tired."

At the sound of her lie, he frowned.

"You need not fear," he replied quietly, "My father doesn't bite."

Shakily, she laughs, still too reluctant to believe him.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but was overridden by two little Hobbits who burst on the scene with wide eyes. Little beads of sweat worked their way across Samwise Gamgee's forehead.

"You're really leavin'?"

His voice was disappointed; over the past few months the Halflings and Trinity had grown close. And now she planned to leave them in favor of the Elf.

"I thought you'd stay a bit longer," Pippin stated with indignation.

Merry only blushed, and Frodo was nowhere to be seen.

With a gentle laugh, she disengaged herself from Legolas, and knelt before them the way she had done in Rivendell so long ago.

"I'll never forget you, Little Ones. Please, do not think that I would. This is only…" she trails off, unable to find the correct wording to express the rest.

Legolas wanted to embrace her again. He wanted her to finish the sentence.

"I'll visit," she promised stoutly, kissing them on the cheek one by one. "I'll visit."

Like children, they grinned, temporarily pleased with the guarantee of her presence in the future. Legolas took her hand once more and, nodding to the Hobbits, helped her mount the horse. With white knuckles, she gripped the reigns; Evalgine's ring sparkled on the fourth finger of her right hand. As they both began their journey to Eryn Lasgalen, they looked back only once at the kingdom of Gondor. The King and Queen waved to them from afar.

OoOoOoOoOo

Her body tingles. That sharp, prickling tingle that feels as though she is being pierced by a thousand needles. The pain, though present, seems hardly a consequence when in comparison to her current predicament. Worse than the tingle of her arms and legs, she can feel the plastic tubing shoved down her throat and the artificial breath that filled her lungs. Obviously, Thaniel does not know of her ability to heal. Any wound he would inflict, any cut, would mend instantly. She cannot die, but he thinks she can.

The longer he thinks this, the safer the others are.

The safer Legolas is.

She can feel the IV in her right hand and the pull of the feeding tube shoved crudely through the flesh of her throat, leading all the way down to her stomach.

He put things inside her.

With a tug, she understands that her wrists are strapped down, as are her ankles. The leather straps bite into her skin ruthlessly.

OoOoOoOoOo

She looked over and smiled at him, though Legolas did not return the affection. He was too engrossed in the forest of his homeland, the green of the trees and the light air around them. Since they entered the forest, he had been uncharacteristically talkative. The entire ordeal was rather strange to Trinity and she found it a little odd, yet charming in the same sense.

He looked so…_happy_.

"Galadriel knocked down the walls of the Dol Guldur, lifting the shadow. Na vedui, it has been so long since the sun has risen here…"

She held back the laugh in her throat. But he heard the silent attempt nonetheless and looked to her with questioning eyes. In response, she only shrugged. To be honest, she did not know what prompted the almost laugh; perhaps it was the safety of this place, or the warm feeling rising in her belly, the tug of her heart whenever he smiled like that.

The horses' hooves beat the grass down as they rode through the trees.

OoOoOoOoOo

Beep, beep, beep.

She hates the sound of the heart monitor.

Beep, beep, beep.

It is driving her mad.

Beep, beep, beep.

Slow and even and so irritating.

Beep, beep, beep.

She wishes she could make it stop forever.

OoOoOoOoOo

"It was here that Gollumn escaped," Legolas confided to her.

Her lips parted and her head tilted to the side, but her eyes focused ahead. Lightly, she tugged at the reigns, leading her horse around the thick trunks. The sun cut shadows into the ground, leaf shaped and beautiful. Now he wondered how such a gorgeous place could have ever held such a tainted creature.

"Aragorn brought him to us," the Elf continued, "and Gandalf came to question him. After that, we were meant to keep him imprisoned."

Shame welled up in him, "My task given to me by my father was to be his guard. In the beginning, he was such a monstrosity…but as time wore on, he became almost bearable."

She gave him a sidelong glance, eyes unreadable.

"We allowed him to roam farther and farther and, one day, he wanted to climb a tree. With our permission, he did. Then came the Orcs."

"You blame yourself for his escape," Trinity said quietly.

He did not need to say anything; he did not even need to nod.

"You never intended that to happen. Any creature can be tricked into compassion with time."

She did not understand. She _had_ to understand.

"I am a failure."

"No!" she cried suddenly, shaking her head in disbelief, "you are kind. You have a heart. Any other in your position would have done the same – "

"Would you?"

She fell silent. No, he knew she would not have. She was intelligent in the art of warfare. Well versed in the basic instincts of survival, he had seen it.

"It was no other in my position," he protested, "It was me. I, who should have known better. I, who should have seen the possibility beforehand."

OoOoOoOoOo

She prays frantically to the Almighty, to Buddha, to the Valar, to the ChristGod. Whoever answers her prayers first, she declares, will have her undying praise. All they have to do is allow her release from this hell. Let her die here, and therefore rid the world of her negativity and horror.

The drugs subside slowly, leaving her naked and vulnerable to the upcoming attacks.

To her right, the heart monitor beeps.

OoOoOoOoOo

Eryn Lasgalen was even more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. Built of old stone, it differed greatly from Rivdenell. This place was not perfect, the carvings in the stone faded. Cracks like veins even damaged some of the surface. Here she could survive. Here, vanity was not prized.

A golden haired Elf was waiting for them, his sapphire eyes tired and welcoming. Other Elves crowded as well, all smiling in greeting, their dark hair glinting in the afternoon sun.

"_Athelil_?" he teased his son with a smile.

Legolas laughed, "Lû ann gwannant, Adar."

They paused briefly, long enough for the couple to dismount and have their horses led away. Legolas took her hand gently in his and steered her to the spot where his father waited. The overdue introduction began.

"Adar," he said with a soft smile, "this is Trinity. Trinity, this is my father, Thranduil."

A moment of silence passed as Eryn Lasgalen's protector measured his son's lover; a grave look clouded his face.

Then, he grinned, "Ni meren an ngovaded vîn, Trinity."

She inclined her head slightly, showing respect.

"It is an honor, My Lord; your son speaks highly of you."

Her tone was a mixture of pleasant sweetness and detached formality.

His laugh filled the forest, "Does he? Hên vuin, obviously you have not seen his letters!"

Her brow creased.

"You are all he speaks of!"

"Am I?"

"Ta thann, and now I see why. Child, you are a thing of beauty."

OoOoOoOoOo

Now that she can move, Trinity finds she is without the motivation to do so. In selfhatre and depression, she lingers with painful thoughts, succumbing to the darkness limb by limb. She settles into a troubled stupor and her vision falters. The cold stone of the ceiling blurs with the heavy feeling in the back of her skull. She will survival, physically, but mentally she is not entirely sure.

Something similar to this had happened before. Dezaria was the result.

Can she carry another child in her womb? Another spawn of the Angel she hates?

Did he dare go that far again?

To pass the time, she counts of the shapes overhead and formulates her means of escape. All of them involve strength. And time. All of them will be difficult and dangerous.

But worst of all, they include patience.

OoOoOoOoOo

"My father thinks fondly of you."

Not sure of what reaction he hoped for, she gave him none. Instead, she laid her head on the pillow beside his, adjusting her nude body between the sheets to face him as well. Evenly, Trinity stared into his eyes.

"Was that not what you wanted?"

Something flickered in his gaze, "I'm not sure what I wanted."

_Jealousy_.

With a gentle sigh, she curled next to him, fitting neatly in the curve of his arm. His body was still warm from the friction, cheeks still flushed with the remnants of passion.

"Tell me about your mother," she commanded gently.

Legolas exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for several moments.

"I remember very little about her."

"Han aníron," she breathed.

He smiled.

"She always laughed," confided Legolas softly, "it sounded like bells ringing."

Breathlessly, she listened to him talk, adoring the musical sound of his own voice.

"When I was very young, I sat on her lap constantly, my arms around her neck."

Trinity closed her eyes, imagining a young Legolas with chubby hands and those hypnotic cerulean eyes wide, a smile threatened to break out over her lips.

"She smelled of fresh fallen rain, crisp and clean."

Yes, she could smell the scent.

"And I remember her chasing me until we were both breathless – "

She grinned, unable to hold it back any longer.

"She'd let me run ahead, and catch me at the last moment."

The sound of his childish laughter rose to her ears and his squeals of joy as a faceless mother chased him.

"I loved her."

In that state of mind, Trinity loved her too.

OoOoOoOoOo

Her wrists sting, and the rise and fall of her chest are irritating to her. And the beeping, the annoying, steady beeping that never ceases. And the drip, drip of water somewhere in the room, and the smell of mold and death. Spitefully, she jerks her head to the side, glaring at the door through the darkness. In a few more hours, she hopes, she may be able to put her idea into action. It is malformed, and a bit chancy, but she truly believes that she might as well risk it. At this point, nothing he would do can affect her so much.

As if by answer to her prayer, the door slides open, revealing a tall figure with large white wings.

OoOoOoOoOo

"What was your mother like?"

Instantly, he regretted the question. Her cheeks flushed, and Trinity hid her face in her arm. Whether from sadness or humiliation he could not tell which made her act that way. He touched her cautiously, walking his fingers up the shape of her spine.

"Goheno nin," he whispered.

"I never had a mother," her voice was muffled by her own flesh, "or a father. I'm not real."

Shame colors his cheeks, "Meleth nin, you are more real than anything I have ever known."

She raised her head at his clumsily attempt to redeem himself. Nonetheless, she smiled gratefully and accepted his kiss without inquiry.

"I suppose," she said when at last they broke apart, "that Evalgine is my mother in a way. She created me, is that not identical to being born?"

Her eyes were so innocent in that moment. He kissed her forehead.

No, it was not identical. It would never be. But it did not matter.

OoOoOoOoOo

"I see you're finally sentient."

If she could respond, she would, but the tubing in her throat makes it impossible. His dark eyes light up with undisguised pleasure at seeing her struggle. He strides to her, placing his palm over one collarbone and allows it to skim across while watching her reaction. She glares at him, hiding any sense of weakness deep in her mind.

_Fuck you_, she thinks venomously, lashing out at him with what little mental power she still has left.

To her satisfaction, he winces, and grits his teeth.

Then, he violently rips the feeding tube from her throat, then the ventilator before delivering an angry slap with the back of his hand. She gags and turns her head just enough to vomit. The gaping wound in her neck heals over in seconds. Her eyes grow wide as she feels Thaniel's gaze hover over the spot. He knows.

"Well, well," he chuckles good naturedly, "this is an unfortunate turn of events."

Her mouths tastes of bile and blood.

"And here I thought this would be easy!"

Swallowing several times, she tries to work enough mucus in her throat to talk.

"All I needed to do was rape you, beat you, kill you."

He leans down, tenderly wiping the vomit from her cheek, "I only I'd known!"

His mouth claims hers and, despite the vile taste, he shoves his tongue inside. Her head jerks to the side desperately, her eyes squeeze shut. Thaniel lingers, lips touching the corner of her mouth, she feels him smile.

"Oh, Dove, this is going to be such fun."

His hand slides up her shirt, caressing her breast. Fear causes her heart to falter.

"Almighty," he moans, "you feel just as I remember. Soft and perfect."

She breathes heavily, before slowly turning her head to face in. His eyes probe hers, perversely amused by what would happen next.

"Gen…fuion," she said shakily, the words burned her from the inside.

OoOoOoOoOo

Everywhere she moved Trinity felt Thranduil's eyes follow her. Perhaps Legolas had been right, he did think fondly of her. Too fondly. So much so that, when she found herself alone with him, she wished her lover was at her side. In a way, Legolas' father reminded her of Thaniel, with his silent obsession. She did not confess these fears to him, as she feared his response to the news.

Through the brightly colored flowers of the garden, Thranduil gazed at her. They were alone together. Silently, she warned him to keep his distance. Her old instincts took hold, and she knew if he laid a hand on her, she would strike. If he touched her, he would die, and she would not regret it.

"My herves planted these."

She let her defenses slip, showing her wonder. Thranduil tugged at a fine braid in his hair, staring nostalgically at her.

"She loved these things like her own family."

He looked to the ground, "When the spiders destroyed them, she became grief-stricken and I grew more and more impatient with her."

Trinity folded her arms across her chest.

"She showed her sorrow freely, crying openly to anyone who would receive her. I ignored her mourning, too involved in keeping the darkness from Mirkwood."

Boldly, he stepped forward, staring into her eyes, a sad smile across his lips.

"Her eyes were green," he said, reaching to touch her cheek, "and cheerless, like yours."

She did not move away from his fingers. Pity filled her veins, the very same way it had with Boromir. Her eyes remained fathomless.

"You look like her," he breathed.

He leaned in to take her lips, but she forced herself to speak.

"I am not her, My Lord; I am your son's lover."

For a moment, Thranduil froze in that position. Fingers lightly pressed against her chin, mouth close to hers.

She feared her words meant nothing, but he drew away.

"We will be eating soon," he told her as he began to turn away, "please relay the message to my son."

And then she understood. He was fading, dying.

OoOoOoOoOo

With his free hand, he grips her hair tightly and tugs, forcing her neck to arch. His tongue follows the curve, and he continually sinks his teeth into the tempting flesh, making sure she bleeds from the force. His other hand remains shoved crudely up her shirt.

"No," he hisses as he pulls away from her, "you are the disgusting one, the unfaithful one. You betrayed me."

His fingers draw together over her nipple, making an unpleasant shudder run down her spine, "And your punishment is not finished, Dove."

He takes her lips again, this time holding her face securely with both hands so she may not escape the vigor of his tongue again. She whimpers as his teeth pierce her bottom lip and he sucks the crimson liquid into his own body.

"Who would want you now?"

His lips shine with her blood.


	3. Do Not Think

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm sure you understand the drill by now. I own nothing but the characters you don't freakin' recognize.

OoOoOoOoOo

For two years, they lived in quiet contentment. Trinity had learned her place among the Elves well enough to stand out of their way, joining in festivities only when Legolas insisted, and not making any emotional connections to the people around her. She found that this old and useful talent was not as hard to resurrect as she initially thought. And slowly but surely, she distanced herself from the one she loved most. Legolas felt the emotional sting of her distracted mental state, but did nothing to repair the weakening bond.

Just as she had hoped and expected.

But still, it hurt her.

He gave in too easily.

OoOoOoOoOo

His hand sears her, flesh far too warm for hers. It hurts. It burns. And she wants it to stop. Thaniel knows this, he depends on it. Her pain keeps him satisfied. He drinks deeply from her misery. Slowly, he leans down to claim her mouth again. Trinity struggles, her body convulses violently in her desperate attempt to be free. All reason flees as she jerks her head rapidly from side to side.

From the open table beside them, he withdraws a sharp tool.

A scalpel.

OoOoOoOoOo

Paying little attention, Trinity flung open the door to the room she and her lover shared. Her mind raced through too many thoughts at once. She felt herself growing more and more irritated with each one, for she did not have the time to weaken. Now, above all else, she needed strength. She needed to walk away. Already, twice that afternoon, she confessed to Legolas her undying love. Her _loyalty_, for fear that she saw him turning away. Almighty, she was disgusting, she was a failure, she was –

The sunlight curls of a little girl cut off her scolding.

Trinity's eyebrows knitted as she studied the small form.

The girl's back was turned, revealing nothing but the silky auburn of her hair, and the decorative cloth she wore. Deep, crimson, with sparkling jewels sewn into it, folding luxuriously against the white sheets of their bed.

Soundlessly, Trinity maneuvered around the room. Crossing her feet at the ankles, taking a step, repeating the action, until finally she reached a position where she could clearly see the child's face. A rush of recognition overwhelmed her as the nine year old girl looked up, her eyes a soulless black, lips pink and angelic. Just the way she remembered her.

"Douma," Trinity whispered, reaching out as though the touch her.

The child smiled, flashing rows of perfect teeth. Something within the ebony eyes flickered light, and resonated a short spasm of joy.

"Trinitas," she answered aloud.

Her voice not only sounded wise, but charming as well, and young. So young. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as Trinity clasped the child to her. Without hesitation, Douma returned the embrace, raising herself onto her knees; she stroked the seemingly older woman's hair like a mother. Trinity's nostrils filled with her scent. Cinnamon. The tears burst through.

Douma's grin widened at the sound of her hushed sobs, "Child. Why do you weep?"

"I thought I'd never see you again," Trinity mumbled pathetically.

Silence followed, though it was not of the uncomfortable sort.

It was one of understanding and necessity.

OoOoOoOoOo

Trinity freezes suddenly, her eyes lock on the instrument. They widen considerably before she finally lets them meet his. Behind the sadistic pleasure, she sees something else. Despite it all, he truly believes that this is the right thing to do. His sense of morality tells him she must be punished for her sins. For the things she did.

"Thaniel," she whispers brokenly, "please…don't do this."

His dark eyes narrow, glittering heatedly. His free hand produces something completely unbelievable. Silver shines against the flickering candlelight, the charm is a dove wrapped in thorns and a merciless emerald marks its eye. She stares at it, and horror fills her.

He grinned cruelly, waving the lover's token in front of her face, "You misplaced this, didn't you, Dove?"

Her lower lip trembles as he draws up her shirt to the breast line. Skillfully, he poises the scalpel just above her navel.

"No matter. We shall put it somewhere where you will _never_ misplace it again."

She growls suddenly, her teeth clench. "_Get fucked_."

OoOoOoOoOo

At last, Trinity drew away, her cheeks stained with the after-shine of her tears. She searched desperately for her former ambivalence.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, her tone was one of pure formality.

"The _pleasure_," Douma scoffed, reaching up to wipe her tears away, "You think you are _so_ mature that you may talk down to me?"

Trinity did not reply, even as Douma pulled her hand away from her cheek, and settled back on her heels. She wanted the embrace of her again, the memories her presence brought. Politely, the girl placed her hands on her lap, smirking.

"Need I remind you that you are still a child compared to me?"

Trinity shook her head with a laugh, "Everything you say reminds me, Douma. I'll not forget my place in your presence."

The air dribbled the tinkling sound of Douma's laughter.

"But," Trinity pressed on in earnest, "I am still curious…who has met their end?"

A strained smile met Douma's innocent mouth, "Trinitas."

Trinity could not understand the scolding in her tone.

"Is it Thranduil? Is he gone?"

"_Trinitas_."

"How did it happen?"

"_Trinitas_!"

"I felt him fading…I should have told Legolas – "

"_TRINTAS_!"

Upon hearing the shout from Douma's normally placid tone, Trinity fell mute, and looked into her hypnotic eyes.

"I am not here for Thranduil."

Trinity exhaled in relief, "Then who?"

Douma looked away for a brief moment, and then back. Slowly, she lifted her hand, palm up, between them. Trinity stared at it for several moments, and when her eyes met Douma's again, they were sad.

And terrified.

OoOoOoOoOo

All thoughts of escape flee from her body, and she lies there, lost. In her slender stomach, the necklace lays in its final resting place, entwining itself in her organs, becoming part of her. Expertly, she closes off the part of her that feels. It is easy, she tells herself, to be a living corpse. Just do not think.

Do not think.

Do. Not. Think.

Of _him_.

OoOoOoOoOo

Legolas heard the sobs before he even opened the door. As the instincts of the protector rose within him, he found the sight before him near unbearable. On her hands and knees before him was Trinity, her shoulders shaking violently with silent sobs. Immediately, he dropped directly in front of her, taking her face in his hands. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and her eyes pleading.

"Trinity," he whispered tenderly, "what is it, meleth? What happened?"

The tears kept falling, and she only shook her head.

He drew her closer to him, cradling her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. Her hands gripped at his tunic desperately, yet still she found no comfort, and continued her emotional outburst.

"She took her away!" Trinity gasped between her heavy sobs, "She took Evalgine!"

He wanted to ask her how, and why, but thought better of it. Instead, he rocked her back and forth comfortingly. Gradually, she fell into a state of soundless shock. Legolas lifted her into his arms, gently placing her on the bed. She sat obediently and turned her blank stare on the walls. With a sigh, her lover moved to the basin filled with water beside the bed. He pushed a piece of cloth into the water, wrung it out, and faithfully returned to his spot beside Trinity. Her eyes finally focused on him as he wiped the remnants of her tears away with the dampened cloth. For a few moments she allowed it, and then suddenly grabbed his wrist, forcing him to halt.

Her grip, though strong, trembled, "I'm all alone."

OoOoOoOoOo

The flames cast the strangest shadows on the wall. Tales of nightmarish creatures and pure hatred play in her mind as she writhes against the leather restraints. Her thoughts will not render themselves intelligible. Instead, they race, whipping through one emotion to the next so quickly that it left her unable to even decipher them.

She is angry.

She is sad.

She is frightened.

She is lonely.

But she is grateful that it is her in this position.

Her, and not Dezaria.

OoOoOoOoOo

Legolas' keen eyes watched her steady slumber, the twitching of her jaw. She had sobbed for hours, going on and on, inconsolable, until at last her body could take no more. Her chest rose and fell heavily as it tried to gather enough breath to satisfy her. What could he do now? Trinity had seemed so distant before, so cold. And he felt the rift between them grow larger and larger with every memory she hid. He bared himself to her, allowing her to know his most intimate secrets, letting her see into his charades.

She did not return the favor.

Always the strong one, the brave and tragic figure, she held it all within her, causing this. According to her, Evalgine was gone. But how could that traumatize her so, when she constantly spat how much disdain she felt for her creator? She told him herself in Helm's Deep. But then, she had also told him something else that disturbed him.

When one entity occupied the body, the remaining was trapped like a prisoner. Trinity had told him when he made love to Evalgine, he raped her. Did he do the same to Evalgine these past years? When he tossed her aside, did he still use her body? Did he torture her soul?

Trinity's eyes were open.

"Meleth," he breathed, touching his lips to her forehead sweetly.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

He withdrew at once, "What happened to Evalgine?"

"She is…dead."

He knew that, he held while she bled to death. He felt her heart stop beating.

"Trinity…"

"You don't understand," she cried suddenly, her icy hands gripped his; "She is really gone! I ca…I can't _feel_ her anymore!"

The prince had no clue how to comfort her.

OoOoOoOoOo

Hours later, he comes again, this time with a new trick up his sleeve. She watches him warily as he turns to a switch near the door. A bright light flashes, momentarily blinding her, and it takes many moments before she can see the shape of her torturer fade back into her vision. He smiles near the tips of her boots and her eyes go blank as he undid the bindings that hold her ankles in place.

He is going to rape her.

Again.

She tells herself not to struggle, knowing that it will only make the situation worse, not to mention more painful. If she lies there, unresponsive, he will grow bored eventually and leave her be. But as he began to pull the leather from her foot, something within her shattered and she goes completely insane. With her other leg, she kicks him viciously under the jaw. The force should be enough to break it, but it seems she is not so fortunate. With blaring eyes, he returns to the task, not at all discouraged by her lack of obedience.

"_No_!" she shrieked, jabbing at him with her still-booted foot, "_No_! _No_! _NO_!"

He deflects her poorly aimed jabs easily, and reaches for the lacing of her breeches.

"You knew this was coming, Dove, why fight it?"

In vain, she keeps fighting, kicking at him and straining against the bonds simultaneously. His wings snap open as he yanks off what remains of her breeches. Angel of Power, he was once called, and now she knows fully. She cannot stop him. He is too powerful.

None can stop him.

OoOoOoOoOo

The next year was filled with unease. Trinity's fits became more and more numerous as time passed, and her distance from him did not lessen. Soon, his infinite patience wore thin. Her plan was working; he was finally starting to see the broken state of her mind and knew he could not console her. The entire journey must be made alone, she decided, without protection. Yet she also knew that despite Legolas' harsh silence, he would never abandon her. No, she must make that decision for him.

She waited until Thranduil called for him, and set to work immediately following. Quickly, she placed a note on the bed, which she had penned the night before in advance. Trinity hoped he would find it, but could not be certain since they no longer shared a room. She pulled on her old cloak from the Fellowship's days, sheathed a sword on her hip, and vanished into the shadows, leaving only a trail of dust behind her.

Once Gandalf had visited the city, and told them of Frodo's intended story. He planned to write the Fellowship's experience. She set her destination for Bag End, and prepared to erase herself completely from Middle-Earth's existence.

OoOoOoOoOo

"This has happened before, hasn't it Dove?" Thaniel shouts above the sounds of her panic.

"Do you remember?"

She continues to struggle, to fight with desperation.

"Evalgine's father took his daughter into a room."

Trinity moves her head from side to side, hoping the action with make her hearing obsolete.

"But as soon as his fist swung down, she relinquished control to you."

Tears stream down her cheeks as she feels his hands on her hips.

"And your first experience in this world was what it felt like to be taken by a man who should have loved you as a father."

She begins to scream, shame and memory coloring her cheeks as she strains.

OoOoOoOoOo

_Meleth nin,_

_Please, forgive me. This is for the best. Where I go, you cannot follow. Do not mourn me, this is only the beginning. Find someone caring and whole to share your life with, someone who will give you the love you deserve. I cannot. I love you, but this is not meant to be. Move on._

_In aeternum,  
Trinity._


	4. Inconceivably Wicked

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm sure you understand the drill by now. I own nothing but the characters you don't freakin' recognize.

OoOoOoOoOo

Legolas frowned at the empty sheets. If the world was the way it was supposed to be, Trinity's slender form would be enclosed between them. He would touch the curve of her thigh through the white fabric, and she would wake slowly at his gentle touch. A moment of sweet defiance at the sun before smiling his favorite smile, one of contentedness. Seeing him there would spark that brief light of joy in her eyes. If the world was the way it was supposed to be, the first experience of her morning would be the touch of his lips against hers and he would chuckle playfully at the hunger in her kiss.

But the world was not the way it was supposed to be.

He should have seen the signs, the hidden gestures, the hollow words.

Trinity had left by her own will, leaving only a piece of flimsy parchment in her wake. He read it again, attempting to understand the words once more.

_This is for the best. _

_**The best**_, he thought with a frown. What was the alternative to this? What was the other option?

_**How could you…**_

He loved her with everything, and yet it was somehow not enough. And now here he was, a warrior reduced to staring at an empty bed that – in a better world – should have had her body in it. Perhaps this pain would heal with time. Perhaps she would…

Legolas drew a deep breath at the sound of insistent knocking at his chamber door.

"Enter," he said softly, barley aware of the emotionless tone of his voice.

From behind the door, his father appeared.

"Iôn," Thranduil breathed as his son placed the parchment down on the desolate bed, "I know this is difficult."

_**Painful. **_

"But you must not let grief take you."

Legolas touched the bedcover with hesitant fingertips, "I know."

Thranduil studied his son with cautious eyes.

"She will return for you," the Elf king replied with promise.

"How can you be certain?"

"She loves you, Legolas, and if she truly believed this to be for the best, then there must be a reason."

The prince did not respond, but moved his vacant gaze back to the parchment, his jaw setting noticeably.

"I need to speak with Gandalf."

OoOoOoOoOo

The room reeked of coppery blood. In the midst of overturned tables and shatter adornments, a little girl curled into a ball, her knobby knees closed in to her chest. Her green eyes were oddly empty, not wide with fear or watering with sadness. She gave up then, succumbed to the pain swelling inside her belly like an angry monster. From outside the stone room, screams drifted away into the black night.

"_**Are you afraid**_?"

Evalgine did not respond to the whisper.

"_**You are, aren't you**_?"

The voice, though barely a whisper, was somehow demanding. And – could it be possible? – sounded a bit disgusted.

"_**It's all in your mind, Ebal**_."

The tone switched to a kinder approach, as if dipped in honey. Whatever this thing was, it was insistent, and it sounded like a little girl.

"_**Look at me**_."

Against her will, Evalgine's head rose, causing a blinding pain to settle at the base of her neck. As her vision cleared, she made out the definite form of a girl of about her age. In fact, she thought with awe, the girl looked exactly like her, right down to the emerald green eyes and the pointed nose. She was laying in the same amount of blood, but she seemed so calm and prepared. So grown up.

Evalgine's lids closed sleepily as she slurred her question: "Who are you?"

The girl reached out with one white hand, brushing the dark hair from Evalgine's eyes.

"_**A gift**_."

OoOoOoOoOo

"My friend, I fear there is no way to communicate with them. What you ask is too great."

Legolas remained as calm as possible, but the deadly irate glimmer of his eyes gave him away. He watched Gandalf exchange a glance with Thranduil. Raised eyebrows of concern mocked him.

"There must be something," he persisted heatedly, "some way to reach them."

Gandalf shook his head, his long silvery beard mimicked the motion perfectly, "Whatever young Dezaria was gifted with, it is solely hers. We cannot force them here, they must come of their own free will."

With those words, his last shred of hope turned to ash. He had hoped that Gandalf might be able to assist the matter, had hoped that Destiny or Scarlette or even Faith knew _something_ of Trinity's whereabouts and the reason of her departure. A frown etched itself deep in the young elf's fine features as a long silence took place.

"Please," he murmured at last, "I need to find her."

Neither Gandalf nor Thranduil could offer him comfort.

OoOoOoOoOo

The entity hid her face in the crook of the angel's neck, kissing it clumsily. His sturdy arms locked around her with the promise of protection. Large hands massaged the tense muscles in her back, carefully healing the bleeding scraps with soft fingertips as he hummed a sweet tune under his breath. She listened lazily, sighing at just the right moments. When the song ended, she frowned in disappointment, looking up at him so he could see the annoyance clear on her face.

She wanted more time with him.

He wanted the same.

And they both knew what they were doing was, in a thousand ways, wholly and inconceivably wicked.

The girl had learned much of her angel's behavior over their long months together. Too much, he feared, and she knew the moment he quit the jovial tune, his departure would be immanent. Thinking quickly, she entwined her fingers in the velvet fabric of his tunic and tilted her face towards his for a kiss. With a long sigh, his lips touched hers gently, then receded. Unfortunately, he had learned things as well and he knew that when her stubborn fingers found his tunic, and when her sweet mouth found his, he must take his leave.

"My love – "

"Non," she interrupted desperately, "please, stay."

His dark eyes burned with regret, "You know there is nothing I want more than to do just that – "

"Then _stay_," she pleaded, her eyes shining with potential tears.

He rested one finger against her lips, silencing her.

"This is immoral. You and I both know it to be true," she shook her head heavily at the suggestion, but allowed him to continue, "And we are fools to believe that we can continue this…sin."

Her jaw set in that adorably defiant way, "I may be a fool, Thaniel Alexandrescu, but I know you are not. You are an angel, a being of pure light, and if this is what you desire, than it must be good. Above all else, you are wise."

"Ah, my Dove," Thaniel replied with a slight frown, "amare et sapere vix deo conceditur."

_Even a God finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time. _

OoOoOoOoOo

Legolas could not gather his thoughts appropriately, for everything seemed so hazy in his mind. Everything moved far too quickly for him to comprehend. He made his way to his empty chamber. The dark night stared cheerlessly at him as he slowly opened the door. His heart leapt at the sight before him. Leaning against the clean stone of a pillar was the clear figure of a woman. With her back turned to him, he could see the moonlighting shining on her long raven hair. A hope rose in him as her name formed to his lips.

"Trinity," he whispered gently.

The woman turned. No – this was not his lost lover. Her skin was far too dark, a deep brown, the eyes less intense. He had never seen this woman before. She frowned as she studied him and he noted at once the gleaming armor she wore. Nestled under her left arm was a metal helm. As for her right arm, it was altogether absent, as though something or someone had torn it straight from its socket.

"Legolas Greenleaf?" the woman's thick accent clipped her words strangely, her voice was heavy and slow, as if unsure of the name she spoke.

His brow furrowed as he cursed himself for being unarmed, "Who are you?"

"Are you Legolas Greenleaf?"

He could sense her impatience and irritation clearly, but could not seem to care.

"Get out," he snapped in response.

The strange female sighed, and her bright eyes expressed a look of pure vexation toward the bed. Legolas followed her gaze to see two other women sitting idly on the starched white linen. Both shared the same tawny colored hair, though one had tight ringlets while the other woman's was straight and simple. Their skin seemed to glow in the swirling darkness. The straight-haired one looked to the dark-skinned woman with a knowing nod.

"Ah, forgive;" said the dark one softly, her irritation melting away quickly, "I should have known Trinitas would never mention us."

Something within him cringed at the sound of her name, "You know Trinity?"

The ringlet one spoke from her position on the bed, her hazel eyes widely innocent.

"O'course we know Trinitas," she said, her tone girlishly young, "she _was_ one of us."

"One of you? And what are you, exactly?"

"An angel," she replied simply, tilting her head to the side as though the answer was obvious.

_Ridiculous. Wasting my time_, the Elf thought.

The woman sitting next to her flinched visibly, "Hush, Carien."

Legolas nearly unraveled at the absurd and completely insane situation, but reminded himself to be patient and listen. The ringlet one – Carien – looked suitably ashamed, blushing crimson as she looked down at her hands.

The dark-skinned one sighed deeply.

"My name is Syebella," she told him in that rough voice, "the loud one there is Carien, and the other is her older sister, Adnessia."

"Charmed," he answered dryly, the women – angels – inspected him thoughtfully.

Adnessia cleared her throat, hazel eyes wary, "We came to see Trinitas. We wish to see her _now_."


End file.
